


where’s the person that i know?/they must have left

by LovestuckPrince



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Dimension Travel, Dream Smp, Gen, How Do I Tag, Kinda, No Beta We Die Like Wilbur in Skyblockle, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc Fluff, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovestuckPrince/pseuds/LovestuckPrince
Summary: Tommy dies in prison. His third death, his final life - which means everything should be over.So why is he still here?Each time Tommy sleeps he wakes in a new universe, each one different from the last. He finds his family again in hundreds of situations, and relearns the love their family carries for each other, remembers how much he missed them all. Determined to find his way back to his original world and save his family, Tommy sets out on a journey through the multiverse, where he must prepare himself for all the horror, pain (and love) he will find along the way.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 153
Collections: Chossi's fic reccomendations for the soul





	1. you're here for a reason but you don't know why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wakes up to find a cup of warm hot chocolate, a blanket to wrap around himself, and a brother with a shoulder to lean on.
> 
> .:chapter title from false confidence by noah kahan:.

Warmth surrounded Tommy on all sides. It was a pleasant, gentle warmth.   
  
Nothing hurt. That was the second thing he noticed, and the first that really stood out to him. The pains that Tommy became so used to feeling, weighing him down with each step he took, were no longer present. Over the past while, Tommy gained more scars and aches and burns with each month he survived, branding themselves on his body, but at this moment they were gone.   
  
For a long time, Tommy stayed in place, not feeling any urge to move. This warmth and lack of pain were chalked up to being a dream, in his mind. He was more than aware of how he was supposed to feel, and he knew this wasn’t correct. He remembered where he actually was, a location that ‘warmth’ and ‘painless’ didn’t fit with.   
  
He was still in the prison. Stuck within those walls, surrounded by lava on all sides, trapped with Dream. But no matter how long this dream may last, no matter how much it made him ache for times when things were so much easier and hurt so much less, he wanted to enjoy this as long as he possibly could. When he woke, there would only be a green bastard to deal with after all.   
  
Time continued to pass, and strangely enough, he didn’t feel himself waking up.    
  
Instead, as moments passed by in silence, a new memory started to surface in Tommy’s head. He remembered Dream, standing over him, as Tommy begged him to stop, begged him to give him some food so that he could regenerate his health. He remembered the pain of his skin breaking open and bruising, bones snapping and cracking under the force of Dream’s feet and fists, his blood spilling hot on the floor of the prison. The agony and genuine horror he felt.   
  
As the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place, Tommy remembered how he had died, and how he had lost his final life.   
  
Like a spell being broken, the warmth was no longer comforting, and the lack of pain was no longer a relief. Tommy’s entire body jolted as he scrambled upwards, eyes opening quickly as he desperately looked around. No matter where he looked, there was only darkness, like all the light had been sucked out of the universe as if he was -    
  
Dead. He was dead. He died?   
  
“Wilbur,” Tommy whispered, words quiet and choked in his throat. He meant to yell, to cry out, but the words were hardly audible, a desperate exhale. Taking in a deep breath, Tommy tried again. “Wilbur!” he called out loudly, voice breaking partway through his attempt.  _ “Wil, Wilbur-” _ _  
_ _  
_ Tommy flinched back on instinct when the door to the room he seemed to be in slammed open, pressed into what felt like a corner of the room. A distant, hysterical part of his mind was trying to figure out why the afterlife included rooms, but most of him was just filled with relief at the familiar figure that stumbled into the room, turning quickly towards Tommy. “Tommy?” Wilbur questioned, panic clear in his voice after Tommy’s hysterical shouting, “what’s wrong? Are you okay? I-”   
  
His words were cut off as Tommy shot off what he finally realized was a bed, slamming into Wilbur’s chest. Blankets tangled around him when he stood and fell onto the floor behind him. His older brother stumbled slightly at the collision, but arms quickly wrapped themselves around Tommy, Wilbur comfortably rubbing circles on his back as Tommy shook slightly, clinging onto the older male as tightly as he could.    
  
Wilbur was speaking to him. Tommy registered that fact distantly, but the words themselves weren’t registering properly in his head. It felt like a weight was pressing down on his chest, and Tommy was struggling to breathe, desperately gasping for air that wasn’t arriving to his lungs like he wanted. It felt a little bit like he imagined drowning would feel like. His hearing was gone, he couldn’t breathe, he felt like he was being entirely weighed down, and the edges of his vision blurring with black.   
  
Carefully, Tommy felt Wilbur lowering the two of them down onto the floor. It was a bit of a relief to no longer have to hold himself up, allowing Tommy to slouch forwards against his brother, all of the fight and energy torn away from him at once. Wilbur drew back ever so slightly, not breaking Tommy’s grasp on him, and Tommy felt Wilbur’s hand press lightly against his chest. Abruptly, he became audible again.    
  
“Tommy,” his brother instructed, voice soft, “breathe. Breathe with me, okay? Copy my breathing.”    
  
Wilbur took in a deep breath. Tommy tried to copy it, but failed, choking slightly on the attempt. With no signs of anger or frustration, Wilbur repeated the step again, breathing in and out carefully, holding his breath for a moment between the deep inhales and exhales. His other hand stayed on Tommy’s back, continuing the circular motions as Tommy struggled through his panic attack.    
  
He remembered once, saying that he’d never had a panic attack before. He supposed dying really was an experience.    
  
Bit by bit, Tommy’s breathing became more similar to Wilbur’s, reality returning an inch at a time. His blurry vision was slowly clearing itself up, and he could hear Wilbur better, the burning in his chest fading away with each minute that passed. They could have been sitting on the floor for twenty minutes or an hour when Tommy finally spoke, though his voice was still stilted and a little strangled. “It’s dark,” he stated, as though Wilbur couldn’t tell.   
  
Wilbur started to draw away and Tomm’s heart instantly sped up once more, grip tightening without conscious thought. It was too dark, and all he could picture was Wilbur turning and walking into the darkness, vanishing and leaving the teenager by himself. It wouldn’t be the first time people had left him alone, lost and hurt and maybe just a little bit afraid.   
  
Exile. Being trapped in prison. Being abandoned was beginning to be a common theme in Tommy’s life, who was to say it wouldn’t follow him into death?   
  
To his secret (or perhaps not so secret) relief, Wilbur stilled his movements, moving his hands to rest over Tommy’s. He squeezed lightly, reassuring. “I’m just going to turn on the light, okay Toms? It’ll just take a moment.”   
  
So light did exist in the afterlife, then? It was a relief, and Tommy hesitantly loosened his grip to allow Wilbur to slip away. Existing in eternal darkness did not sound like anything Tommy wanted, and his wish for light was strong enough for him to be willing to risk Wilbur’s presence. It wasn’t dark in the prison, the lava was more than enough to light the entire place up, but that had been a harsh light. Painful and torrid, more of a pain than comfort.   
  
The light was turned on a moment after Wilbur stepped away, and the afterlife looked shockingly like a bedroom. Tommy glanced around slightly, turning his head from side to side, eyes growing wide from the unexpected sight. It was just an average bedroom. It had a large bed that was normally covered in thick blankets, which were now on the floor behind Tommy. There was a dresser that was likely filled with clothes, and a desk with a computer on top. A bookshelf stood against the wall. The walls in question were pale peach, with photographs pinned up over the desk. He wanted to get a closer look but now wasn’t the time.   
  
Wilbur returned to his side, crouching next to him, and Tommy’s attention moved away from the room around him. “Is that better? Do you want to move into the kitchen, actually? You can take a seat and I can make you some hot chocolate,” Wilbur offered, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tommy almost flinched but forced himself to remain still.   
  
It wasn’t Dream. Wilbur wasn’t going to hurt him. Could he even hurt him, here?   
  
There was a kitchen in the afterlife? And hot chocolate?   
  
After what may have been too long of a pause, Tommy nodded, raising an arm up to wipe at his face. There were dried tears around his eyes, and it was gross. The embarrassment was starting to set in, and Tommy was waiting for Wilbur to start mocking him and making fun of him for crying.   
  
Wilbur straightened so he was standing on his feet once more and Tommy did so as well. He stumbled slightly when he first stood, feeling unsteady all of a sudden, but when Wilbur took a half-step forward Tommy stepped back. He wasn’t a child, anymore, and he could bloody well walk to the kitchen himself.   
  
Not that he could really blame Wilbur for trying to help. Tommy did make a right mess of himself, panicking so badly, crying and hyperventilating like that. Hardly actions that befitted a big man. Tommy was sure Wilbur hadn’t cried that much when he first died. To be fair, Wilbur had been rather unstable at the time, the bastard had probably laughed when he woke up in this strange place.   
  
Wilbur led Tommy out of the room. He glanced over his shoulder once or twice to make sure Tommy was behind him, and they passed through a hallway and went down a flight of stairs. They seemed to be inside a decently large house, though Tommy still wasn’t taking the chance to look around. He would have lots of time to do so since he was going to be stuck in this weird afterlife for the rest of time.   
  
Stepping into the kitchen, Tommy slid himself into a seat at the small table in the corner of the room. Wilbur made sure to turn on the lights as they entered the room, and was quickly making himself busy, getting both of them a cup of hot chocolate. He didn’t even glance in Tommy’s direction the entire time, and the teenager found himself painfully grateful for it, shame still heavy from his display. It gave him a chance to really make sure he was calm and collected.   
  
Rubbing at his cheeks again, Tommy made sure they were dry by the time Wilbur was seated across him a few minutes later, sliding a mug across the table. Picking it up, Tommy curled his fingers around the warmth of the mug, taking a hesitant sip. It tasted perfect, the right amount of milk, and the correct temperature that all hot chocolate should be.   
  
Wilbur took a sip as well, peering at Tommy over the top of his mug, eyes dark and openly concerned. Tommy really couldn’t remember the last time Wilbur looked at him like that. The last few days in Pogtopia, the time leading up to them…    
  
It hadn’t been pretty.   
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Wilbur offered, breaking the silence.   
  
Tommy took another sip of his drink, using it as an excuse to collect his thoughts for a second longer. The warmth filled his stomach, strangely comforting. “Not really,” he admitted finally. His voice was still quieter than he wanted it to be, so he cleared his throat, trying again, forcing a smile onto his face. “You know me. I’m a big man, I can deal with any shit.”   
  
Even dying. Even being beaten to death in a small inclosed prison, listening to the sound of his own body breaking -   
  
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, tightening his grip on the bright pink mug.  _ Don’t think about it.  _ _  
_ _  
_ “Do you want me to call Phil? Or Techno?” Just as quickly as he had closed his eyes, Tommy was opening them again, staring at Wilbur, wondering if he had heard him correctly. Last time he was aware, Phil and Techno were back at their own place, perfectly fine and safe and healthy, they couldn’t be - they wouldn’t -   
  
It was Technoblade. It was Phil. They didn’t die, they hardly got injured, they blew up L’manberg and laughed and laughed, and nothing Tommy or anyone did as they desperately fought to stop them even made them falter. Even against the entire SMP, the two had stood their ground, so how would they be here? They couldn’t be here, they couldn’t -    
  
Tommy wasn’t even aware of how unsteady his breathing had ended up once more until Wilbur was quickly standing and moving over by his side, hand gently extending to rest on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, no, it’s okay,” Wilbur said quickly, speaking without hesitance, “it’s okay, I won’t call them if you don’t want me to, Toms. I just thought dad being here might help, or Techno might help as well. I know it’s weird not to have them in the house this late, I thought it might have been the cause of your nightmare, but if that’s not it, then it’s fine. You don’t need to talk about it. You’re fine.”   
  
Dad? Tommy couldn’t remember the last time any of his siblings had called Phil ‘dad.’ Techno had stopped calling him that back when Tommy was just a young child himself, and Wilbur stopped calling him dad around the time they had left to join the SMP. Tommy had stopped when he watched Phil shove a sword straight through Wilbur’s chest when he had watched his own brother lose his last life and die right before him, a smile still on his face.   
  
“I don’t…” Tommy swallowed, confused. He was still afraid, no matter how hard it would be to make him admit it. Even if this house seemed safe at the moment, it was still unfamiliar, and the situation he thought he understood so clearly had suddenly turned into a mystery. “Wilbur, I don’t understand.”   
  
“That’s okay.” Yet through it all, Wilbur was there, steady and comforting in a way he hadn’t been since they joined the SMP. Acting like his big brother again, instead of his commander, treating him like he cared about him, instead of acting like Tommy was nothing but a nuisance. “You’re okay, Tommy.” He said those words so steadily as if he had spoken them hundreds or thousands of times before, and Tommy believed him, somehow.    
  
Wilbur reached forwards, gently ruffling his hair. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he reminded Tommy, “why don’t we just go to the living room? We can get all the blankets from our rooms and bring the hot chocolate and we can watch a movie. We can even watch Up… and we’ll leave the lights on.” He added that last part, and there was no malicious intent there. Wilbur still hadn’t mocked him, or teased him, he was just…   
  
Supporting him. It felt so much like those times before Pogtopia, before the war for their independence, that Tommy almost felt like he wanted to cry again. He didn’t, of course. Crying once was enough for a big man like him.   
  
Tommy had no idea what ‘Up’ was or how they would watch it, but he nodded anyway, lulled in by the sense of security he was being offered. His nod seemed to be enough of an answer for Wilbur. “I’ll get the blankets,” Wilbur offered a smile on his face, “and set up the movie. Just wait here for a second.” Tommy nodded again, grip tightening on the mug once more as his brother vanished around the corner.    
  
Seeing Wilbur leave didn’t feel as awful this time around, since there was less doubt in his mind about whether or not he would return. He could still hear him, a few rooms away, getting the movie set up and collecting the blankets like he had said he was going to do. Tommy took a few more sips from his hot chocolate and hesitantly stood up, following the sound.   
  
He entered what seemed to be the living room as Wilbur was setting down what had to be the last of the blankets onto practically a mountain of the material. Tommy raised an eyebrow at the sight, and Wilbur looked up, catching his expression. Immediately Wilbur laughed slightly, breathlessly amused, and Tommy’s heart pounded at the sound. When was the last time he heard Wilbur laugh..? “Don’t look at me like that,” Wilbur scolded, the grin on his face telling a different story, “I’m used to pulling out hundreds of blankets, Techno always runs cold. You like them as well, don’t lie to yourself.”   
  
“You’re a bitch, Wilbur,” Tommy sighed, the words slipping out so easily. He walked further into the room, settling himself into the blanket pile and balancing his mug, and found that Wilbur was right. It was comforting, not that he was planning to admit that to Wilbur. Tell the bastard he was right about something, and he would never let it go.   
  
Wilbur vanished for another moment to retrieve his own mug from the kitchen, before settling next to Tommy. He sat close enough that their sides touched, there if Tommy needed him, and a moment later the movie was playing.   
  
Even if Tommy had never seen the movie before, he was captivated quickly by the characters and the story on the screen, and the stress and confusion and fear started to slip away. Maybe the afterlife was better than he thought it would be if this was all it was - movies, and hot chocolate, and piles of blankets and the warmth of his brother at his side, not insane and half-crazed.   
  
The pink mug was taken from him once it was empty and Tommy started to slip towards the side, head resting against Wilbur’s shoulder, eyes half-closed. His head was starting to feel cloudy and tired again as the movie reached the half-way point, his mind safe and relaxed for the first time since he had been locked away, happy to take the chance to finally shut off and properly relax. An arm shifted around his back, supporting him, and Tommy allowed the lull of sleep to pull him under once more.   
  
He would get his answers in the morning, but Wilbur was here, which meant that everything was fine.


	2. lights will guide you home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wakes to a new cell, walls covered in weapons, and a dead man ready to start his show - with Tommy as the main attraction, of course. 
> 
> .:chapter title from lights by coldplay:.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New character tags will be added if the character in question actually speaks during a chapter! Hope you enjoy. <3

As the draw of consciousness reapproached, Tommy realized with a slowly dawning horror that the pain had returned, and the warmth had fled.   
  
Was it a good thing that it had all been a dream, or something negative? On one hand, that meant Tommy was alive, he still had a chance to survive and see Tubbo again. He could work on his hotel, and try to make the SMP a better place now that Dream was locked away. On the other hand, it meant he was still with Dream at the moment. He was locked away as well, and with Sam’s refusal to free him, he could remain locked away for a very long time.   
  
It hurt his head to think about it, so Tommy pushed those thoughts aside, for now, instead focusing on himself. All things considered, he didn’t hurt as badly as he thought he would have. He remembered his bones breaking, his skull cracking, the bruises that were being placed all over his skin. Sam must have slipped a regeneration potion or a healing potion into the cell though. He still hurt a lot, bruised and aching, and his side felt like someone had set it aflame, but Tommy was lucky. He could be feeling a lot worse.   
  
It was quiet in the cell, too quiet. Was Dream asleep? It was too cold as well, now that he truly thought about it. The lava should be scorching and torrid, but instead Tommy shivered lightly, curling himself up into a tighter ball. He felt a wall at his back, and he finally started to pry his eyes open.   
  
This wasn’t the prison. It was _ a  _ prison, but not the one he fell asleep inside of. Tommy straightened more in order to get a good look around, breathing out shakily. He was in a small metal cell, the ground below him cold and stained with dried blood. Bars of metal separated him from what looked like a long hallway. There was another matching cell across the hall, but no one seemed to be inside of it.   
  
Had Sam moved him to another cell, to get him away from Dream? If that was the case Tommy knew he would happily stay in here instead of in that lava-filled hellscape, but if Sam could move him, then why couldn’t Tommy just leave the prison entirely? Where was Sam? Was he going to just leave him in this place?  _ Again? _ _   
_ _   
_ Tommy started to push himself up onto his feet so he could walk over towards the barred entrance and get a better look. Trying to stand made his side flare up, and he leaned against the wall of the prison, sucking in a harsh breath, but not willing to give up. Sliding one foot forwards he started to shuffle his way towards the bars. He didn’t make it very far.   
  
After maybe a step or two, a hand grabbed his shoulder.    
  
His heart leaped into his throat and Tommy flinched away, hard. Unbalancing he tipped forwards, and his hands quickly moved in front of him to attempt to catch himself. He didn’t need to, since Dream hastily steadied him, catching him before he could hit the ground.    
  
Tommy wished he had just let him fall.   
  
Tommy struggled, trying to shove Dream’s hands away, but Dream only tightened his grip on him, not letting the younger teenager collapse. “Let go,” Tommy practically spat, anger (and fear) all too obvious in the way his voice trembled. “Let go of me, you fucking bitch, you’re insane, you’re-”   
  
“Tommy, you need to relax.”   
  
That wasn’t Dream’s voice. Tommy stopped struggling, more from shock than an actual want to relax. All too similar to the dream with Wilbur, his older brother lowered him down onto the ground. His other older brother, in this case, the one who went by too many names to count - The Blade. The Blood God. Technoblade. Techno. His oldest brother, who helped raise him.   
  
_ You want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one! _

The same brother who shot Tubbo and took away one of his lives, the brother who wanted him to die, who burned down L’manberg, and blew the entire nation apart.   
  
And yet, he was the only person who was there to help him after he was exiled. Technoblade had given him food, and armor, and a place to stay. He had helped train Tommy and had promised him that he would fight against all of the server if Tommy chose to stay with him.   
  
_ Unless of course, you want to call in that favor.  _ _   
_ _   
_ But he had never been on Tommy’s side, had he? Maybe he had helped him, but he had been willing to sell Tommy out so easily, and then act like Tommy had been the one that betrayed him. As though Technoblade wouldn’t have done the exact same thing himself, as if Technoblade wouldn’t have sold him directly back to the man who abused and manipulated Tommy for months.

All of his conversations with Techno and all of the pain and happiness he went through next to his brother’s side hovered in Tommy’s mind like a heavy mist, complicated and foul. It was so difficult for him to know how to treat Techno at this point, his feelings towards the pink-haired adult frayed at the edges, tied together and torn apart, a puzzle that was impossible to make heads or tails of.    
  
Technoblade crouched in front of him, and Tommy realized how bad he actually looked. Instead of his usual regal style of clothing, never complete without a crimson cape and a jeweled crown on his head, Technoblade was weary dirty rags, torn apart and bloodied. He looked injured, too, bruises visible on his arms and along his neck, bandages showing from underneath one of his sleeves. How was he here? When did he get thrown into prison? Why?   
  
There was the explosion of L’manberg to consider, but last Tommy had heard, people were just trying to move on and leave that behind them.

  
“What happened?” Tommy questioned, breaking the silence that had filled the room since Technoblade had spoken. He forced his words to stay steady, tilting his chin up higher, eyes bright with flame.   
  
Techno looked tired, in a way Tommy had never seen before. Something wasn’t right, something was horribly, horribly wrong. Sighing, Technoblade settled himself on the floor across from Tommy, gesturing towards his side. It was the side that felt a little bit like fire, burning and clearly injured. Hesitantly Tommy raised his shirt to take a look, only to find bandages wrapped around most of his torso, hiding the injury underneath.    
  
“Niki got you pretty good,” Technoblade commented. His voice was deadpanned, but Tommy could hear an underlying note of cold in his tone.  _ Niki?  _ That gave him more questions than answers. Niki had no reason to hurt him, and Tommy had nothing against her. They had fought on the same side multiple times, actually. How would Niki even get into the prison in the first place? It was weird enough that Technoblade was even here, let alone Niki managing to get inside.   
  
Tommy hesitantly let his shirt drop, frowning up at Techno. His hands were tightened into fists at his sides, shoulders drawn into a tense line. “Why would Niki want to hurt me? What are you even doing here?”   
  
Those questions made Technoblade pause, for some reason. His gaze focused on Tommy, and there was an evaluating look in his eyes. He didn’t answer the questions though, making Tommy bristle with annoyance.    
  
“Not going to say anything? Listen, Big T, I know you have the whole-”   
  
There was sound outside in the hallway and Techno made a sharp motion for Tommy to fall silent. Normally Tommy would have ignored that. He hated being told to quiet down, hated people telling him he was talking too loud or was just a child who shouldn’t have an opinion in whatever the matter at hand was, but it didn’t feel like that was Techno’s point, for once.    
  
Somehow, Tommy had the feeling that he actually had to be quiet, if someone was out there.    
  
It had to be Sam, or even Bad or Antfrost. Tommy knew Bad and Antfrost were both guards, even if he hadn’t seen them around the prison much. Sam was the one who did most of the work since he was the only one who knew everything about how the prison worked and how to keep it safe. Tommy didn’t mind Bad or Antfrost. They had both given him gifts during his exile, even though they had no reason to do so. None of those three people were dangerous, actually, so why…   
  
Why did they have to stay silent? _   
_ _   
_ Tommy quickly turned to look towards the bars, but he didn’t get to see who it was, because Technoblade stood in a flash to stand in front of him, placing himself between Tommy and whoever was outside the bars. Once more, the past and present blend together, like paint mixing on a dripping canvas.    
  
So easily, he could picture Dream in front of him, Techno guarding Tommy for just a moment before the fragile trust between them shattered with a few simple words. It was strange that Technoblade was bothering to put up the same farce again when Tommy knew he hardly cared about him. Techno spoke first, the same cold in his voice from earlier when he spoke about Niki, but deeper now. Nearly icy in the intensity. “Am I up for the next fight?”   
  
“No.” It felt like Tommy had been plunged back into water, like he was drowning all over again. That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t  _ possible.  _ Schlatt was dead, he was supposed to be dead, he had lost all three of his lives so how was he here? Then again, Tommy had thought that he had lost his three lives, and he was still here. Schlatt was still talking, even as Tommy felt himself spiraling, the sensation of inky water flooding into his lungs consuming him, as it reached with its corrupted fingers. “Tommy’s actually up again. It should make for a fun show, don’t you think?”   
  
Up? Up for what? Technoblade stepped back slightly, as if blocking Tommy off further from Schlatt would prevent this horror show from continuing. “He’s hurt from his fight with Niki,” Techno spoke, voice sharpening like a blade preparing to draw blood. “I can put on a much better show than he can, in his state.”   
  
Schlatt laughed, amused as though Techno had said something hilarious. “Oh, shows are boring with you, even if you let them get in a few hits so the crowd can get excited, you always end up ripping your poor opponent apart.”   
  
“I know how to put on a show, Schlatt. Put me up against Dream if you want a real fight, or place Phil with me in an arena.”   
  
“I think I’ll save the big Technoblade versus Dream fight for a while longer. The crowd does love watching some family drama… but no, Blade, I want Tommy this time around, it’ll be hilarious. You don’t get a say in the matter.”   
  
Tommy reached out, placing his hand against the wall. Slowly he dragged himself up again, testing the burning in his side. It still hurt like a son of a bitch, but he was expecting it more now, and managed to stay steady on his feet. Quickly, he ducked under Technoblade’s arm.   
  
It was definitely Schlatt, if the voice hadn’t made it obvious already. He had the same curved horns and suit, the same smirk on his face that never failed in the past to make Tommy’s blood race with the need to pick up a weapon and fight. As though bored, Schlatt cast him a look before returning his gaze to his older brother, dismissing him at once. “You remember what happened last time you got the idea in your head to fight me,” Schlatt spoke, his words sounding like the end of the conversation. “Unless you want to watch another brother die?”   
  
Another? Tommy flinched back as though struck, and instantly a large hand was on his back, Techno supporting him again, an instinct. Without even looking at him, Tommy knew he was pissed. Techno always tensed up when he was angry, a warning sign that the world would come crashing down around your head as you become subject to his wrath.    
  
This situation was clearly different than what Tommy was used to. It was very obvious that Technoblade wasn’t the one in control.   
  
It became even more obvious when Schlatt stepped forwards and unlocked the cell, and Techno didn’t immediately lunge forwards to rip his head off. “Let’s go, Tommy,” Schlatt called out, looking at the younger male.   
  
Despite himself, Tommy couldn’t help but look up towards Technoblade, eyes wide. Techno was already looking towards him, and his hand relaxed on his back slightly, the slightest smile on his face. “You’ll be time, Tommy, you’re a big man.”   
  
That was weird. That was weird enough for it to almost hurt. Techno teased him, mocked him, even at their best moments when his annoying cutting words became clouded over with an edge of affection. It was rare that Techno was ever openly affectionate with him though, especially not lately. It felt like he was trying to reassure Tommy, but why would he bother?    
  
“Let’s go, we don’t have all fucking year,” Schlatt warned. Techno nudged him along and Tommy followed Schlatt out of the cell, heart pounding in his chest like a drum. Once he was out of the small prison Schlatt locked the cell door behind him and turned to head down the long hallway. With one last glance behind him at his brother, who was still watching him with that blank expression, Tommy hurried after Schlatt, stumbling slightly and doing his best to ignore the pain in his side.    
  
What the fuck was going on? So far, Tommy had heard the names of Niki, Dream, and Phil, and something about them putting on a show. He had also seen Techno and that line about Wilbur… Well, Wilbur had watched Wilbur die as well, and it was never a nice thing to think about. Coming from Schlatt just made it worse, the reason why Wilbur had done the things he did. Above all else, however, how was Schlatt even there?    
  
This didn’t look anything like the prison that Tommy remembered. As if the time between when Dream had killed him - or, almost killed him - and the time that passed before he woke up was much longer than Tommy had originally thought. Had they all been moved to a different location, in some closed-off space, where Schlatt somehow was?    
  


It made no sense. The injury on his side felt like it was burning even worse now, as he struggled to walk.    
  
There were cells along the walls. For a while, they stayed empty, but it wasn’t soon before that changed, and Tommy realized they were just spacing the prisoners apart. Tommy slowed slightly when he recognized Fundy in a cell, the fox sitting in the corner, knees to his chest. All around his neck was bruised, so darkly that it almost appeared black in the darkness of the cell, and Tommy felt as though his heart dropped in his chest, anxiety going up a few more levels.   
  
Fundy looked up, and the two made eye contact for a moment. After a second in which Tommy faltered, Fundy glanced in the direction that Schlatt was still walking towards, casting Tommy a worried expression and making a gesture for Tommy to keep going.   
  
Tommy swallowed but did so, paying more attention to the cells. Niki and Jack Manifold had cells side by side. Niki openly glared at him through the bars, Jack watching him silently from the back of the cell. George was pacing in circles, not even glancing up as they passed by. Purpled made eye contact with him for a second, and Bad and Skeppy shared a cell just like it seemed Tommy did with Techno.   
  
It looked like the entire SMP was here, locked away, all of them covered in bruises and cuts and bandages. Bad looked like his actual arm had been broken, wrapped in a cast, and held tightly to his chest. How was any of this possible?   
  
It would be so easy to act like he normally did, throwing insults and demanding to know what was happening. The burning in his side was a clear weakness though, and something about how even Techno was falling in line sent a new kind of fear down his spine. Not to mention, Tommy could still remember all too clearly the pain of being beaten, and he wasn’t ready to go through it again. Not now.   
  
If he had the chance, he would take it, but until then… he would have to keep his mouth shut for once.    
  
They left the area with all the cells. There were doors, but they were all closed, and Tommy quickly lost track of the winding hallways and all the twists and turns, until they made it to a door that was clearly different from the others. Larger and metal, heavy. Locked. Taking out the same ring of keys Schlatt had used to unlock the cell, the doors were swiftly unlocked, and Tommy was gestured through.    
  
The walls were covered in weapons and armor. It was all high quality, netherite, enchanted newly and powerfully. There were swords, axes, tridents, crossbows, bows, and enough arrows to supply an army with. The entire room looked like supplies for an army, as if someone was preparing for war.    
  
“Well, you know the drill,” Schlatt shrugged, gesturing along the walls. “Get yourself suited up, whatever you’re feeling tonight, while we get set up. Give us a good show, Tommy.” The words sounded so teasing, but the underline of sadist cruelty was obvious to Tommy when he’s heard it so many times before.    
  
Tommy turned, eyes flashing. “You fucking bitch, what is this supposed to even be? I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing-” he started, his uncharacteristic silence shattering in the blink of an eye.   
  
Schlatt laughed, gesturing over his shoulder, waving Tommy’s words off. “Now, now, Tommyinnit! Save that for the crowd, you know better than to bitch at me about it. You haven’t been this loud since that little… incident with Tubbo.”   
  
Tubbo? Rage, as hot as the lava Tommy had grown so used to seeing around him, replaced the blood in his veins. Schlatt had already turned to leave as Tommy twisted in order to grab one of the enchanted swords from the walls, but unluckily (or, perhaps, luckily) when he turned back again, the door was closed and Schlatt was gone.    
  
Tommy was alone in the dark, once more.

**Author's Note:**

> My second DSMP/SBI fanfiction! You'd think I would have waited to actually finish (or even get a few more chapters along) the first one before I started the second,,, but I'm very very excited for this one, and I already have a lot of plot planned out, so I couldn't resist the urge. I promise not to start a third until at least one of these two gets completed. 
> 
> Please follow me on Instagram, at LovestuckPrince! I really love drawing and creating my own characters which I post there, and I would love any support. <3  
> You can also find me on Tumblr at LovestuckPrince, feel free to send me asks about the story/bother me to update if it's taking me a while!
> 
> Please kudos, comment, and subscribe. <3


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